There's something about Kakarot
by Zogeta
Summary: While trying to hit bugs with his car bumper and avoid cows, Vegeta gets inspired, and armed with oreos and chocolate milkshake, he sits down and pens a letter to Kakarot.


There's Something About Kakarot  
  
By Zogeta  
  
Disclaimer: Blah! But it is Akira Toriyama's 49th b-day on Tues 5 April!  
  
No warnings...except that it's a little unexpected of Vegeta. This goes out to Sparda, (my biggest fan, and also my brat brother) and to my reviewers, for although small in number you may be, you are larger in heart by far. What really sucks is people that read, but don't review! Just write one sentence and that's it! Come on!  
  
PS: To my fave authors: Buzz and Rena Sama! I wish they'd just stumble across my work though, considering they are my biggest inspiration! As always, I urge you to check out my faves list! That's how I come across the best stories, and the ones I've got are pretty cool. Thanks to all those that have archived my stories, you make my heart grow 2 and 2/9ths larger! Well, I'm getting tired of talking to myself, and to maybe five readers, but hey, I wanna share my work, so here goes...  
  
"I'm the bean daddy this time! Bean Daddy!" – Yajirobe, Coolers Revenge Well, I think its funny.  
  
I sit down at my desk, a tall glass of double thick cold chocolate milkshake and some Oreo's within reach, and take a clean sheet of pale blue paper out of my desk drawer. Bulma gave me a weird look when I asked her if I could borrow a pen and paper yesterday. She asked me if I even knew how to write. Of course I can, just not neatly! I had replied back sharply. She had just shrugged and lent me her fountain pen and given me a couple sheets of Capsule Corp paper. So, now I look down at the blank sheets before me, and wonder what the hell it is that I wanna say. I twist the lid of the pen, give it a few shakes, and frown for a second. Then I put pen to paper with slight hesitation, then the words start pouring out of my pen, the black characters soaking into the paper, as I write...  
  
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Dear Kakarot  
  
I guess you're probably wondering why I, of all people, should be writing to you, since, well, you're dead, and secondly, you're my biggest rival. Supposedly. But there's a first time for everything, isn't there? You should know this better than anyone else. A first time to get beaten, to lose your pride, to be embarrassed by a lower class fool. But I'm digressing here. Let me get to the real reason why I'm writing.  
  
I was in my car the other day, driving nowhere in particular, if only to get away from Bulma's constant nagging. Sometimes driving is more relaxing than flying, especially in the country where there aren't many people. So there I was, trying to hit as many bugs as possible with my front bumper when a song came on the radio, by System of a Down. At first, I paid little attention, since I was trying to dodge a wandering cow at the time. But then I listened a little closer, and a few lines came on that reminded me of you so much. If I recall correctly, it was something along the lines of "I cry when angels deserve to die...I don't think you trust in my self righteous suicide." I'm writing this because those words reminded me of you so forcefully that it felt like a right hook to the jaw. I can't help thinking that you've always been a bit of a suicidal angel, albeit not self- righteous or self serving. After all, didn't you allow yourself to be killed in order to kill your brother Raditz and save this pathetic rock of a planet? Didn't you do it to try defeat Cell? Yes, even I will admit it, Kakarot. You were a saiyan angel on earth, now one with a halo in heaven.  
  
I'm curious... do you remember that night before the Cell Games started? In two months time it will be the seven year anniversary. Do you remember what you said to me, while we were sitting outside Capsule Corp, in the garden while everyone else was inside, having yet another stupid get-together? We were sitting up in the giant oak tree on neighbouring branches, only a metre away from each other. You had come to find me, on the pretence of getting me to join the party, but you know me too well Kakarot. I would never have joined in, so you came to keep me company, even though I usually prefer my solitary self. You swung up through the branches and landed on the one next to me, and gave me a cheery wave and a friendly "Hey Vegeta, mind if I join you?" You saw right through my rather half-hearted insults and sat there anyway, that idiotic grin on your face and your super saiyan hair starker than usual by moon light. Almost ethereal. Do you remember what you said, up there amongst the acorns and leaves? Do you? I hope you do. Because those words are perhaps some of the most important words I've ever heard. They even rank way up there with the first time Trunks called me daddy. What you said still stays with me today, because it was the first time any one had ever said something like that to me. I tend to remember the little things, good and bad. Sometimes though, there are days when I just want to scrub my memory clean, and forget all the terrible things that have happened to me, forget all the despicable things I've done to others, including you. But if I did that, then I'd lose what few good memories I do have. The birth of my first and only son. When I turned super saiyan for the first time.  
  
Those few moments with you.  
  
Look at this, I can't believe how sentimental I'm getting. Must be old age. I'm hitting forty-four in three months. But for a saiyan, I'm still in my prime. The annoying perfectionist in me always checks over each sentence inked out in my rather cramped and untidy handwriting. I read over what I've written, and wonder if I haven't gone soft in the head. But these are things that need to be said, even if they come out sounding alien and strange coming from me, a forgotten Prince over a dead and gone race. Arrogant, proud, stubborn and guarded. Against what, I really don't know. Well, Kakarot, has your memory retrieved those few simple words you gave me, up in an oak tree on a summers night in the waning moon, and do you remember the surprised look on my usually emotionless face? I'm sure you do. I hope you do. If not, let me kick your memory back into action, if being dead has rusted it a little.  
  
Look, I'll even quote you, if it helps you to remember better. You said " Vegeta, I know how much you hate me, and that you wish you could kill me and stand on my grave and laugh. But a part of me knows -either in my heart or soul- that it's not entirely your fault that you are the Vegeta that I see and know. And I wouldn't change that Vegeta, I wouldn't. One day, maybe we can become friends, and until then, and after, you should know I'll be there for you, regardless. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, well, no matter what happens tomorrow with Cell, I'll be here, Vegeta. When and if you need me."  
  
Maybe at the time I didn't think much of those words, and maybe they didn't mean much to you, but kami Kakarot, they still mean so much to me. My memory serves me well, doesn't it? Frozen into my mental gallery is that one image of you, your hand stretched out, and for once, not a moronic grin on your face, but a small, genuine smile and concern gently adorning your eyes, instead of the hatred that people always regard me with. How clearly I remember stretching out to you and grasping your wrist, as you grasped mine, squeezing gently.  
  
Saiyans have an ancient custom known as the Warriors Bond. Unbeknownst to you, you fulfilled that bond with me that night. I guess that fall you took as a child didn't completely erase your memory after all. The bond requires only that the willing minds of two fighters to find some common ground in each other, whether it be friendship, rivalry or even just a favourite battle style, and they make a pledge to each other, to be a silent support and ally in difficult times. My pledge was silent. And I'm putting it into ink now, to be spoken in black, smudged symbols on a white canvas. I'll be here, there and everywhere Kakarot. When I die, and I'm in Hell, and you're on your fluffy little cloud in Heaven, I'll still be there. Maybe having a son has changed me more than appears on the surface. But I'm assuming it's a good thing though.  
  
I can't really do anything with this letter, since you don't have a postal address. I mean, I can't exactly write "Kakarot the Saiyan, Fluffy White Cloud No 4, Heaven, Otherworld, 0000, cc King Yemma." on the envelope. They'll regard it as prank mail at the blasted post office and send it right back to me, stamped "INCORRECT ADDRESS". But the words above needed to be said (or written) and I'm glad I did put it down. But, I do have my plans to get this to you. When I'm on my deathbed, in around two hundred years or so from now, I'll take this letter with me, and drop it off at the check-in station. Hopefully they'll pass it on to you. Kakarot, tomorrow will be two months short of seven years since you died. And this hollowness inside me will only get worse. As much as I am loathe to admit it, I miss you. And the sad thing is, I'll never see you again. You won't allow us to wish you back, and Heaven is not to be my soul's final home. It's down to Hell for me, to spend eternity with Frieza, Cell and everyone else I've killed, or has tried to kill me at some point. Just marvellous. I'm sorry I never said good bye, and that we can never spar again. And I'm a just a little pissed that I'll never get to say "you stupid third class moronic baka!" to your face, affectionately of course, and get to see that immortal Kakarot grin, hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip. I miss that. A lot.  
  
Well, I think (and I think a lot) that maybe you are watching over me, over all of us. Sometimes, I sense your presence. And a part of me wonders (actually, I'm pretty sure you do) if maybe you still use your instant transmission every once in a while just to make sure I'm not in trouble. Or causing it. It's mind-numbingly boring here. There's some stupid tournament happening in two months, maybe I'll join it, just for laughs. Pity I won't get to battle you. You still owe me a fight, you know! It's been about, hmm, Gohan was six then, he's just turned eighteen...twelve years, Kakarot. That's a long time to pay back a debt. If we ever got to fight again, I'd have to charge you interest. Ha, my wit is as dry as ever. Cell complimented me on it once. He must have got his knack for spotting talent from me. And his enormous ego too.  
  
Well, baka, I should have said all of this to you back then in the oak tree, after we let go of each other's wrists. But your hellcat, I mean, wife, came looking for you. And you left me with a cheery wave, a grin, and then you were gone. It's a pity that you didn't see me smile after you left. You said once that I have a really awesome smile, when it isn't sarcastic or a smirk. You baka, running off to join an inane party. But maybe I'm the baka after all, for holding my tongue.  
  
Sorry I took so long to say this, I wish you could read it, since I don't quite have the courage to speak it. I found a quote in some magazine by some human, he didn't give his name though. But it matters not, I still think it's profound. It goes, "Sometimes when one person is missing, the whole world feels depopulated."  
  
See you in hell. (Yeah, whatever. As if.) Vegeta  
  
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I read over what I've written and nod. It'll do. I check it one last time, fold it carefully, and slip it into an envelope. I lick the seal of the flap and press it down, then take a sip of chocolate milkshake to get the taste of the glue from my tongue. I write "Kakarot" on the front with a flourish, then smack myself damn hard mentally for doing anything with a flourish. When I die, which could be anything from tomorrow, to a hundred and ninety years from now, I'll take this letter with me and drop it off at the check in station. I'm sure it'll get to Kakarot from there. I lean back in my desk chair, chewing on the end of my pen reflectively (always has been a bad habit of mine) as I detect Kakarot's brat Gohan coming here in his ridiculous Saiyaman outfit. I look at my size nine combat boot clad feet, resting on the desk, and a tiny smile tugs at my mouth. I can't really keep it out of my eyes. I'm kinda flattered that Gohan wears the same boots as me. I owe a lot to that kid, as much as I hate to admit it. Then a smile claws it's way onto my face when I think about what Kakarot would say if he saw Gohan's lame super hero get up. He'd probably tease him no end, ripping off (dear kami, I'm using earth slang!) that laughable helmet and cape ensemble. And I'd just stand in the background, arms folded and a smirk in place, just as I always have.  
  
I think I'll get up for a while. I've never actually sat down and written anything nearly as long as this letter. I hope Kakarot can read it when he actually gets it. Bulma's ditzy mom (who makes the best chocolate chip caramel cookies this side of Namek, I might add) once laughed at a note I left on the fridge to tell Bulma that I'd be gone for a while. She misread my handwriting so badly, she some how managed to find some sexual connotations in it! Or maybe she's just perverted. She's hiding something behind that rather annoying exterior of hers, but I don't really want to know what's behind it. Ugh. I swing my legs down to the floor, stand up, stretch, and click all the bones in my spine back into place with satisfying clicks. I also do it because it drives Bulma mad. I take a leisurely walk to the motorcycle repair room, and from a distance I can hear Gohan telling Bulma about some girl called Videl or something. I grin inwardly. She sounds exactly like Kakarot's Furie of a wife. [A/N- Furies are spirits in Greek mythology that take vengeance, sort of like harpies. It seems a fitting description for Chichi, wouldn't you say?]  
  
And then guess whose voice I hear, after nearly seven long years? "Kakarot?"  
  
After speaking to that third class baka after so long, I'm instantly in a much better mood. Now, not only can I finally settle the score between us, but I can tell him the things I wrote in my letter. I intensify my training, and drag Trunks with me for at least three hours of my nine hour schedule. A week after Kakarot made a long distance call from heaven to us on earth, I jerk awake in the middle of the night. I sensed him! I know I did! I sit up in my bed, and fumble for the light switch. As light spills into the room and up the walls, I feel disappointed. He was here, that I can tell, but I guess he couldn't stay for long. I guess he couldn't. After all, he is dead and I'm fairly certain that jumping dimensions isn't technically allowed, no matter how innocent you are. I'm about to turn my light off and go back to sleep when I notice that my desk is missing something. I swing my feet onto the floor, grateful for under-floor heating. I hate the cold. I pad across the room to my desk, a quizzical look on my face. On my desk is a blue wristband, a long white feather and a small folded up scrap of white paper. But the letter I wrote is gone, blue envelope and all. I open the folded note, and smile. Kakarot's childish, friendly block letters jump out at me. it simply said:  
  
See you in the Tournament, Prince. And thanks for the letter, I can't wait to read it! You had better be training hard, I want a decent fight when I get there. But I know you won't disappoint me. You never have. Kakarot.  
  
I am not going to disappoint him. I slip on his wristband, which fits snugly around my wrist., then pull my glove over it. I have to maintain my image you know. The "Vegeta Look" is immortal, I'll never live it down if they knew I was wearing one of Kakarot's armbands! I pull on my weighted combat armour, grab my towel and set off for the gravitron. Screw sleep. That baka is going to get what he deserves. I just hope that nothing else happens on that day. I'm pretty sure it'll just be an ordinary day. What could possibly go wrong?  
  
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Wow, Vegeta really has a way with words. I fold up the letter, put it back in it's envelope and tuck it away carefully in my gi top. I must have read it about six times, and I still feel touched with each time. Although, it took two read-throughs just to decipher his handwriting. I peek over the edge of the planet, and I can see him training in his gravitron alone, gravity up to 600. He'll get a good fight, I owe it to him. I set off to find King Kai (and a snack! Reading makes me hungry.) and I'll weasel the harshest training programme I can out of that blue sensei of mine. I grin, as I jog around Grand Kai's place. I'm so excited! I'll get to see my sons, my friends...  
  
And I'll get to see Vegeta too. Now that's gonna be awesome!  
  
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If anyone noticed, this is the prequel to Whatever Kakarot, whatever, my other G/V story. Notice how Goku doesn't mention that he's glad to see Chichi, and Vegeta is in his own room. Hmm, leaves possibilities, doesn't it? I am a firm believer that Goku and Vegeta suit each other more than the harpies Bulma and Chichi. I mean, why would someone as great as Vegeta settle for some one as mediocre as Bulma? It just doesn't make sense! And if you are a Bulma or Chichi fan, well, too bad. This is my little piece of Dbz. Flame me, and I'll just burst out laughing. How childish do you have to be to spend your life flaming?  
  
Dedications: to my kid bro Sparda (real name Alexi) and Sei. And all my other reviewers too!  
  
As always, review and let me know what I'm doing right and or wrong! Baie Dankie! Aragato and all that. My Japanese isn't that good.  
  
PS: This is for purple moonlight, ozuma's girl and Ria too! The last instalment of Whatever is coming. And a brand new story too, right after I get back from South America in early may! Hang on, my precious reviewers! 


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